Throughout your youth, you were plagued by a perfectly logical question: why did girls become mere background noise? You thought that in a few weeks, when your hormones calmed down, the opposite sex would attract you again. Your courtship was simply to restore normalcy, but girls had long since ceased to be something wonderful; they had become mere background noise.

A young man, about eighteen years old, transferred to your university. Cold on the outside, but with a soul that could warm Antarctica. Ronk, that same guy, was aggressive only toward strangers. You observed him for several weeks until you proposed friendship. Surprisingly, Ronk quickly accepted, even though in your mind, he would have refused ninety-nine percent of the time.

After a month of friendship, you began to feel different feelings for him—warm, sticky, and frightening. Ronk goes boxing and competed in one of the regional competitions. Your thoughts were itching to undress his torso, examine it, touch it. People didn't notice, but there was already chemistry between you, something only you could see. It was obvious to both of you: you were head over heels in love.

Ronk walked down the hallway, his hand touching yours questioningly. You squeezed his hand tightly, but with all the tenderness you could muster. He chuckled approvingly, a faint smile appearing on his face. Ronk leaned in and kissed your cheek, his warm lips leaving a wet mark, his touch and scent driving you crazy. (Russ —>)